While Measuring Strength
by WhitOro
Summary: After untold years of darkness, stuck inside Mor'du, the sight of a particular lass provokes a very human tingle in the mind of a fallen Prince. Character death.


"_Strength doesn't come only from how you act. Power is not only determined by your own self. It's the sum of what people see in you… it's the way the world shapes itself when you act._"

So your father kept repeating to you and your brothers. His voice was for your ears a monotonous and plaintive wheeze of a dying broken man, one that never really knew what strength was. But despite the boredom and irritation you proved for being lectured once more, at the end, you received the message loud and clear.

Strength is born from the others as much as from you. You see it in their eyes, you feel it in the way they treat you. Those are all measurements of your might. Strength is not only winning a battle, it's the parade afterwards. Strength it's not only killing a foe, it's watching the fear that fills his eyes once you take everything he has from his hands.

So tell me my dear Prince, the screams of your brothers as you slaughtered them and feasted on their flesh, was that strength to you? Yes.

And the terror in the eyes of your soldiers when faced with your new form, that was another sign of your force, wasn't it? Yes. _YES_.

And a once powerful and prosperous kingdom, crushing down, crumbling into nothingness because of a single decision you made, out of greed and anger? If that isn't the undeniable proof that your strength can reshape the world by simply existing, nothing else can…

So, was it all worth it? My dear prince, now alone and forgotten. Losing your humanity piece by piece, a soul swallowed whole by the darkness. No longer man, but beast, a force of nature like a fire or a storm, made of claws and fangs. Legends created around your new name.

Mor'du. A new legacy, to surpass the other, reverberating through time, lands and kings… That's also strength. Yes, yes it is. It was worth it. After all, that's what you asked for.

But maybe…

* * *

Centuries pass, seasons repeat themselves into an endless cycle. You are stuck with your strength, not a single being seems able to stop you. Your humanity, does it still exist? Or Mor'du commands completely? Does regret grow inside your soul, or a soul you have no longer…

You must have one, because what else she's effecting?

She leaves behind a scent made of strawberries. She moves between the trees like a gentle spirit, her hairs are flames and fire, unrestrained energy.

You watch her, you spy her, every day of her life you're a quiet shadow in the background. She grows into a beautiful lass. You smell her essence, and for a second… what was that? You haven't felt it in centuries, that tingling sensation that humans prove, while beasts are incapable off…

Is it love? Is it lust? Did you ever knew the difference? Mor'du seems to be lowering his head. You feel a little bit of breath after centuries. You keep looking.

She has the grace and beauty of the maidens of your times. Dozens were offered to you, by kings and clans, as brides or simply gifts. The world moving for you, another sign of how strong you were… Just like their deaths. Because you loved with the same fury and passion you put on slaying an opponent. None could keep up your pace, none could survive a single night with you. That was your power.

* * *

Her horse seems to feel your presence, in the distance, but you don't care, she's still clueless. She jumps in lakes made of the coldest water, gasping and laughing. She climbs trees and stone walls just for fun, like the goddess of hunt she's quick with her bow and perfect with her arrows.

You keep following and the tingle becomes stronger. There's something warm growing inside the blackness, and Mor'du is like sleeping, his anger and rage seems to be melting away. How could it be? Who is this lass and what is she doing to you? Confusion, doubt… emotions. You haven't felt them in what, a millennia? You can't even tell anymore, stuck in that form no sense of being, of time… the only thing absolute was the urge to consume, and kill… how long since you felt something else?

You don't remember, do you, my dear prince?

* * *

It's a day of winter, snow covers the forest and her fierce hair look even brighter by contrast. You have waited long enough… Mor'du hasn't showed up for days and she's alone. You want to approach her, come out of the shadows, stop lurking where she cannot see you.

She hears your footsteps. She trembles when turning her head. In her eyes, there's the same thing that was in your brothers' eyes: a reflection of your own strength. Fear. She's afraid of you. How couldn't she? That's your power… When she screams, that's enough. Mor'du heard her. He's back, and you're lost, once more.

She died quickly. You managed to make it painless for her. The urge to eat the body also escapes the fiend. So you leave her there, laying in the snow, intact yet broken, her hair as red as her blood. Now they'll come for you. Her father will call hunters from all the kingdom… no, the world. Warriors of every kind will come to kill you, to stab you, to maim you, entire armies will be put together just so they can take you down.

That's another sign of strength. You should be happy. That's what you wanted, by dear Prince.


End file.
